For Every Auburn Color
by PoetOnAPuzzle
Summary: There's a name for every emotion. For every kiss with a spell. And Leon and Claire are learning that sometimes love comes with a shove.
1. A Name For It

Leon Kennedy dreamt of gnashing teeth.

He dreamt of the dingy motel room, of the darkness around the corners of the walls.

But something was off.

The door to the room was open. The cheap copper number 2 on the hook of it gleamed in the moonlight – which drifted in like a haze through the pulled curtains. He couldn't see behind the threshold of the door. A thin veil of darkness obscured the hallways beyond.

But Leon could smell something. Pungent and sharp, stinging his nostrils as he breathed in and out.

It smelled of earth and sickness.

It was the scent of Rot.

And that rotting stench floated through the door and into the room, as though carried by an unseen wind. Leon stared at the darkness beyond the door, hoping his eyes would eventually adjust and he would see that there was nothing there. That the feeling that something was watching him was all in his head.

But the feeling persisted and his eyes didn't adjust and only the darkness remained. Leon could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, slamming into the bones of his chest. Sweat slicked his limbs, making the scratchy bed sheets clean to him like a second skin.

_There's nothing there. Nothing at all, you're dreaming._

But something _was_ moving. Swaying back and forth in the liquid darkness beyond that simple wooden frame. Drifting through the inky mass of black that filled the hallway.

A shuffling sound filled his ears. Slow and erratic. Punctuated by a heavy thud. Over and over.

_Shh…shh…THUD…_

The noise was maddening.

Leon wanted to bolt from the bed, reach for his gun, wake Claire and Sherry, and tell them to run. He wanted to do something – _anything_. But he remained fixated on the inky mass as though his eyes were locked in their sockets.

He tried to call for Claire, but Leon's voice had died in his throat. All that seemed to come out was a hollow croak.

The scratching sound was getting louder. The thumping growing more pronounced. The shuffling footsteps quickening. Whatever it was that hid in the dark was approaching.

A scream pierced the stillness of the night. A shrill, shrieking wail that rose high into the air and sent Leon's skin alight with gooseflesh.

Leon's heart was hammering inside his chest now. Doing double-time, thudding so hard he could feel it hitting the bone. It was going to burst. Leon was sure of it. He would die in his sleep. After all, he had survived, Leon knew he was going to die in his sleep and Claire or Sherry would wake in the morning to find his body. Pale and lifeless. Stiff as aboard. Ready to join the ranks of the dead and lost Umbrella had claimed.

The shuffling sound stopped.

Leon felt like the whole world stopped with it. There was nothing but impossible stillness, so absolute and sudden, it felt like that he'd been trapped in amber.

A wheeze came from the other side of the black fog.

Something exploded outwards. Rushing at him on gangly limbs and stumbling footsteps.

All Leon saw was yellow teeth.

Hands closed around his limbs, scratching and clawing at any bit of him it could latch onto. Skin slid of hollow bones and blood splattered across his sheets.

Leon screamed as milky white eyes – unseeing and without understanding – filled his vision. The thing loomed over him and shrieked.

Then there were only teeth. Around his neck. Sinking into his skin. Tearing through his muscles like a knife through the soft flesh of ripened fruit.

And his heart hammered on and Leon screamed but there was only silence. He screamed until his throat was raw but the teeth still ground through his flesh and he felt the black plague of Umbrella surge through his veins as the dead thing bit into him – changing him. Corrupting him. Infecting and decaying as it spread through his veins like a sick venom-

Leon bolted upright. A scream was lodged in his throat like a stone. He gasped, feeling the sweat running down his forehead and stinging his eyes.

He grabbed at the spare sheet draped across him and threw it off. The itchy linen felt like it was suffocating him. His necked ached something fierce, and Leon knew that he'd be miserable in the morning, but the soreness was drowned out by overwhelming thudding in his ears.

Breathing deep, Leon tried to steady himself.

_Only a dream. The city is far behind you. You're alive. Calm down. _

Leon thought he might throw up for a moment. His body gave a terrible tremor, but Leon slid from the chair and placed his feet flat on the rough carpet.

The feel of the stiff fabric seemed to ground Leon, bringing him back to his senses quickly.

Leon tried to piece back together with the events that had led him to this less-than-stellar motel room.

He remembered Raccoon City.

Remembered Claire.

The vivid detail of their escape from that hellhole.

He recalled…_commandeering_…an abandoned vehicle near the outskirts of the city after they'd escaped. Claire had driven them to this motel some 75 miles in the opposite direction. They'd all needed sleep and food and (above all else) a goddamn shower. They'd paid in cash—somehow, in all the chaos Leon had managed to hold onto his wallet and credit cards. While his police ID and badge were pretty much useless now, his debit card certainly wasn't.

The store clerk had given him a strange look when he dropped a cart full of chips and soda onto the counter. Not to mention the shirts that read 'I Heart Raccoon'.

Claire had struggled to stifle a laugh when the man sniffed and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Leon admitted, much later in the stolen car, between the irony of the t-shirts and watching the man's struggled attempts to breathe through only his mouth had indeed been _kind of _funny.

It had been motel hopping through the Midwest ever since.

He remembered arguing with Claire on dressing his wounds. She'd fussed like a mother hen over him still, but Leon was finally regaining most of his movement.

_Okay, what next? Keep your mind busy. _

He remembered each of them taking their turn to get showered and divvying up the beds.

Being the gentleman he was, Leon offered Claire and Sherry the beds and relegated himself to a stiff-looking armchair in the corner. He was beginning to regret that decision immensely now, and the dull ache in the crook of his neck was proof of that.

_You really should have just taken Claire up on her offer to share the bed. You're both adults, why is it you're the only acting like a dopey teenager? _

He scanned the motel room. It was dark, and the moon glowed through the thinly drawn curtains. Sherry quietly tucked away beneath her sheets. Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. That was good. She deserved a good night's sleep.

Leon felt strange. Kids were something he'd never been too sure on, but he'd grown to respect and care for Sherry. Maybe one day, he wouldn't be opposed to having a child of his own. He hoped he could be a good enough father to raise them to be half as strong as Sherry was.

Still, something felt off.

Leon had discovered Claire had a penchant for light snoring. It was an oddly charming quality, one that made her more endearing to him than Leon was willing to admit. It had become something of a reassuring noise, one that lulled him to sleep most nights.

Yet, he heard only one set of breathing.

With a start, Leon realized Claire wasn't in her bed. She was gone.

Panic crept its way into the corners of Leon's mind. Leon leaped from the chair, and quietly checked the room over.

Claire wasn't in the bathroom. Her jacket was still on the back of Leon's makeshift chair-bed, and her switchblade was still on the nightstand, as was her watch and wallet.

_Okay so, she's still here somewhere. Look, Kennedy. Find her. _

Leon unlatched the door and peered outside. For a brief moment, he hesitated to open it all the way and step outside, fearful there was a shambling corpse outside waiting for him and his dream had been more of a premonition than a nightmare. Steeling himself, he pressed it to open fully and slipped outside. Pocketing the key, he let the door click shut softly and peered around.

The Motel was retro-inspired, with a long L shaped balcony that looked over the parking lot outside. Leon scanned the concrete lot and breathed a sigh of relief.

Sure enough, Claire was there, below him. Sitting on a bench near a few vending machines.

He watched her for a moment. She sat still, but Leon could tell by the sag of her shoulders that something weighed on her deeply.

Seeing her like that left a peculiar sinking feeling in his stomach.

She looked alone, a speck in an empty parking lot.

No cars.

No trees.

Just cracked concrete, weeds, and Claire Redfield alone on a bench in the dead of night.

All of it set a melancholy hue about his bones that surprised him.

He knew he probably should have left her be, maybe she needed time to herself after all, but Leon couldn't bring himself to turn around and head back inside. The overwhelming desire to be near her, and to shoulder whatever burden rested on her shoulders with her, was so sudden and acute that it had taken him aback.

Less than three weeks ago, Leon wasn't sure he'd ever had someone in his life he felt so protective of. Claire had changed that for him.

The strength of the bond he had forged with her frightened him.

Sometimes, when Leon looked at her, he could name the emotions he felt towards her.

Warmth, light, admiration, dependence, connection, familiarity, strength…

And then there were other, stronger ones Leon didn't have a name for.

Stronger emotions he could feel beneath everything else, and those were the ones that confused him.

Raw and almost ethereal.

And while Leon had no name for them, it was safe to assume they were in control at that moment, because the need to go to her then was almost overwhelming.

In the dark, Claire sipped on something quietly, and as he descended the cheap wrought iron stairs of the motel, Leon remembered Claire wasn't old enough to drink.

During one of their long, rambling conversations in a motel room, Leon had discovered Claire had just begun her Junior year of college when news of her brother's disappearance had made its way to her.

_One more thing Umbrella took from her. She should be worrying about exams and papers, not hordes of corpses and death._

He stopped a few feet from her, realizing she hadn't noticed him yet.

_Don't look so lost, Claire. It kills me. _

"I hope that isn't a beer Miss Redfield." He called to her.

He thought it was funny, a joke to break the tension and maybe calm the tightness in her shoulder blades. What Leon hadn't expected was to find himself staring down the barrel of Claire's pistol.

Immediately he threw his hands up. "Easy, easy, it's okay if it is! It was only a joke."

Claire froze, and her grip on the trigger slackened. "Leon?" she asked, almost as though she were just finally seeing him.

"Evening, ma'am," Leon said with a weak smile.

Claire's eyes seemed to clear, and suddenly she was fumbling to put the gun away, "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that—I just—you scared me and I reacted. Christ, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Leon said. He understood better than he was willing to admit.

Claire looked at him, and he could feel her reading his eyes. Finally, she deflated. Her shoulders sagged and she let out a weary sigh. She flashed him a small, tired smile. "Guess I'm still a little on edge, huh?"

Leon put a hand on her shoulder, "We all are."

Claire nodded, still looking unconvinced, but beneath the pads of his fingertips, Leon could feel the tension in her shoulders ebbing ever so slightly.

Leon motioned to the bench, "Mind if I join you?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

For the briefest of moments, Leon felt that familiar swell in his chest. He liked it when she smiled. It made things seem just a little less messed up. Made things feel just a little bit more whole.

Leon shared her smile and watched the sway of her slender legs as she sat back down on the bench. A brief flash of guilt slipped through his mind when he realized he might have just checked her out.

_Class act, Kennedy, _he thought, _real appropriate timing._

Truth be told, he had found himself doing that more frequently than he was willing to admit. He had assumed it was probably just a proximity thing – after all, he spent nearly every waking minute with her – but more and more he was beginning to doubt that.

Shaking the thoughts away, Leon decided he'd think more on that later.

He slipped a few stray dollars from his jean pocket into the vending machine, picked a Sprite and a bag of popcorn labeled with some brand name he'd never heard of, and waited for the machine to finish whirring and clanking around as it dispensed the food.

In the stillness of the autumn air, Leon felt like the soft clicks and clanks were closer to a gong going off in a funeral parol.

The irony of that comparison was not lost on him.

The metal bench was cool to the touch, but Leon barely noticed.

Claire pointed her bottle at him, "It's, uh… it's Pepsi. Not beer."

Leon laughed instinctually. "Given what we've been through, I wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted a beer." Untwisting the cap from his bottle, he tapped the spout to hers, "Pepsi isn't a bad alternative, though."

"You are such a boy scout," Claire said, and her laugh sounded wonderful in the still of the cool night air.

He wanted to hear it again.

It was a sound Leon didn't think he'd tired of.

Bright and lilting.

A sound like light. Like normalcy and warmth.

"Would it surprise you to know you're not the first person to call me that?"

She leaned forward, watching him from the corner of her eye.

She said, "Why am I not surprised?"

"I think I might be insulted."

She sipped her soda with a sly smile; "You strike me as someone who got his knot-tying badge early."

"Actually I struggled with that one the most."

A bark of laughter slipped from his throat when Claire balked at him.

"You ever try tying a sailor's knot?" He grinned after regaining his composure, "There's like nine different steps to that one."

Claire threw her head back and laughed. A real laugh. Bright and unburdened. It was an honest sound and soon Leon was joining her too.

Silence settled in when their laughter died down. The stillness in the air returned, and the quiet hum of the night filled the space their mirth had left.

Yet, the air had changed. It wasn't lonely. Cold or lifeless. It was warm. Comfortable.

The same sensation slipped through him like a wisp of smoke. The nightmare he'd had not twenty minutes ago felt like a distant memory. A pleasant calm had come over him, and the ghost of Raccoon City that had clung to him like a second skin since their escape quickly began to feel like a far off dream.

From the corner of his eye, Leon could see Claire's soft features. She seemed more alive. Like the weight that had been on her shoulders was almost something he'd imagined. She was glowing again.

Leon felt content. Distantly, the realization that he always did when they were around one another settled into the back of his mind.

With sudden and brilliant clarity, Leon knew that come what may, they would handle it. As a team. Alone, they were hardened and competent, sure, but together? Together they were like iron.

An adage about a single twig and a bundle of twigs drifted through his thoughts but disappeared quickly when Claire tapped his opposite shoulder and slyly fished for a potato chip from his bag when he looked the other direction.

He smiled, held out the bag to her, and she laughed, trying to hide the crumbs around her mouth.

Twigs, zombies, evil corporations, whatever. It didn't matter. They'd figure it out as a team.

How could he worry about anything when he knew that?

Leon asked, "How come you're out here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Leon supposed it probably was, "You?"

"I've been having nightmares."

Claire turned to him, ponytail whipping across her face. "Nightmares?"

The way she said it made Leon realize she was having them too. That the reason she was out in the cold was because of a nightmare.

"I have them every night," Leon said, holding his eyes on the horizon line.

"You do?"

"Of course. I'm starting to count three hours as a solid amount of time for a good night's sleep."

A thin smile drifted across her features, but there was no mirth in it. "I wake up a lot during the night."

Leon asked, "It starts pretty slow right?"

Claire nodded, "Yeah, it's like I close my eyes, and then my brain just hits the panic mode button. If I can hold onto a dream for 45 minutes before it slips into a night terror, I count myself pretty lucky."

"And if you can't?" Leon asked, already knowing the answer. Still, he wanted to hear it. Needed to.

She held his gaze. Her eyes were soft. "Well… there are lots of little details you miss in the ceiling tiles until you stare at them for a while."

Leon tried to smile, but failed, only producing a twitch of his mouth that was hollow and sad, "I swear, every time it's like my poor heart is going to beat right out of my chest it's moving so fast."

Claire sighed, "I wonder if you can have a heart attack from a nightmare."

Leon said, offering her another chip, "Well that sounds like kind of a lame ending, considering what we've been through if you ask me."

"Yeah," she said, but she's giggling and it makes Leon feel a little less lost, "Think they'll ever stop?"

"I hope so."

She looked at him, her eyes suddenly sharp and alive, "And if they don't?"

"Then we've got a hell of a lot of therapy in our future."

Claire leaned back and took a long sip of her soda. She looked thinner beneath the sterile motel lights. The red and sickly white lights seemed to highlight the fact that neither of them had had a real, decent meal in almost two weeks.

Leon promised himself, first chance he got, he'd treat Claire to a real meal. Maybe burgers, or a nice pizza, or a juicy steak- whatever sounded nice to her.

"Hey, Claire?" Leon tried.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever wake up, and you – uhh – you feel lost or lonely or like you need someone to talk… you can wake me."

"Leon—"

Leon held up a hand, "Look I'm not saying you need it, or anything—just, yeah… wake me. If you ever can't sleep. I'll always understand. Wake me, and we can do this," he held up the bag of chips as if to illustrate his point, "To me, this is better than watching the clock tick down in dark."

Somewhere in the distance, an animal hooted into the night.

"Between you and me, I'd rather sit and talk with you than lie awake in the dark," Leon continued, nudging her with his soda bottle, "I'd say you've got a lot more personality than a ceiling tile. Much better conversationalist, too."

Claire watched him for a long while then. Her eyes were like grey-blue storm clouds before the rain broke and the sun returned.

Without saying anything, she reached over and placed a hand on his forearm. The touch surprised Leon but he tried not to show any indication of it.

Her fingertips were cool on his warm skin, but he could hardly feel it. All Leon could feel was pitching in his stomach.

In the few weeks, since they had fled the city, they had become closer. Leon knew that. He thought her willingness to be near him was probably a sign of it. And really, Leon was not one for touching, but he found that Claire seemed to be an exception to the rule.

"Leon, can I be honest with you for a second?"

"Always."

Claire shifted, staring at the bottle clasped in between her fingers. "It's going to sound kind of weird."

Leon smiled, and leaned in, his voice low and soothing, "I mean we're sitting outside in the cold because we've been dreaming about zombies. Really, what's one more weird thing for us?"

Fidgeting with the cap of her soda with her free hand, she said, "Up until a few days ago, my life was pretty much just me and my brother. And that was all I needed. I didn't really have anyone else in my life. People could come and go and I would understand if they did. Life is full of that. It's normal."

Leon watched her, thinking that – for the first time – he might be seeing Claire Redfield nervous. He'd certainly never seen her at a loss for words. Her ability to always have a biting retort was something he found humorous most often.

"But then you and Sherry came along. And suddenly, despite the circumstances that brought us together, something about it feels…_right_." She said, with such conviction it made something in Leon's chest tighten, "When I look at Sherry, I see the little sister I always wanted. The one I might have had if my parents were still around." She looked up at the window looming over them with a wistful expression, "My heart feels full for the first time in a long time. I look at her and I feel like I see part of a family Chris and I never got to have."

She spoke with such surety, but the look on her face was unmoored. As though she might up and drift away into the inky black sky, to settle amongst the stars.

Leon reached out and took her hand. If for no other reason than instinct. To tether her there. Or maybe, to tether himself to her.

It was a bold move, and really, Leon was not entirely sure he should have done it, but he did anyway. In his gut, it felt like the right thing to do. And Leon was learning that trusting his gut always seemed to pay off.

To his surprise, she didn't pull away, and when she wrapped her fingers back around his, Leon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"It kind of frightens me. How protective of her I feel sometimes, I mean," Claire said.

Leon couldn't help but agree. And while he didn't want to vocalize that Sherry might have changed his opinions on fatherhood, he couldn't help but sympathize with Claire.

After all, he'd been an only child too.

"And then there's you," she said, quietly. So quiet, Leon wasn't sure she had said anything at all.

"Me?" Leon asked, baffled, "What about me?"

"It's weird. I mean, we've only known each other a short while, but it feels like you've belonged here the entire time."

She seemed to take a sudden interest in their intertwined fingers, then. Watching them intently. She moved her forefinger, sliding it over his knuckle, gliding it along to the inside of his palm. Absentmindedly tracing patterns there.

"When I think about what's next, you're there. When I think about if we're going to make it through all of this…I don't get worried. In my mind, if you're there - if you and I are together – if it's you who has my back – I'm not scared. I mean—I should be, right? We just escaped, like, the _literal_ city of the dead, right? I should be fucking _terrified_ but I'm _not_." Her words were picking up steam, and she'd begun to talk faster, and Leon couldn't help but wonder if this had been building up inside her for some time. "And I've known you for…what? Maybe a collective twenty some odd days?"

"Twenty-three, but who's counting?" Leon said.

She smiled, "Twenty-three days! Now I can't picture going forward without you being somewhere in my life. The thought of losing you, or of you not being there, pushing forward with me, surviving with me… god, it makes me nauseous. It's insane and confusing and I don't know how much of it is a post-traumatic stress thing and how much of it is because you've suddenly become one of the few people that mean the world to me… And now the idea of going back to not having you around really freaks me out, but hell here I am and-"

Leon cut her off by leaning in and saying softly, "Hey Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling."

She laughed, and there was no hint of bashfulness in it. Instead, she caught his smile and a faint flush of red crept across her cheeks. "You're right. Sorry, I'm a little out of my depth here."

"It's okay," Leon said, quietly, "I am too."

"You get what I'm trying to say though, right?"

"I do."

"You do?" and the surprise in her voice was plain.

"Yeah. And for what it's worth, it _is_ fucking freaky."

"Well, I'm glad. I hate how needy and just…_not independent _all…_that_… sounded." and she waved her free hand about as if to illustrate her point.

"You mean codependent?"

"Alright, don't be a smartass," she said, but she squeezed his hand appreciatively.

"So then, together?"

"Together?" She asked, curiously.

"Yeah," Leon said, surprised by the determination in his voice, "Cuz' I don't plan on leaving you any time soon."

"Oh?" she said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the blush across her cheeks and the content smile told him otherwise.

"Hate to say it, Claire. You're stuck with me. Hope you don't mind."

"I don't think that's the worst thing in the world right now," she said, moving a little closer to him.

"But, ahh… on a serious note… you and I will sort this all out together. Like you said, you have my back, and I'll have yours. Always. No matter what."

"I think I'd like that."

"Good, but on one condition," Leon said, and relished in the way Claire's eyebrow shot up, "You give some thought to that offer I made."

"About staring at the ceiling?"

Leon snorted, "No, jerk, about waking me. You can't sleep? You wake me. Deal?"

She nudged him and stuck out her tongue, "Well, if you're okay with your sleep schedule getting _even _smaller, then deal."

Leon smiled and nodded, and Claire seemed content with that.

They settled in, peaceful and quiet in the night. Leon felt that familiar serenity settled over him once again.

It was nice. There was no other word for it.

It was calm. Quiet. And Leon could feel the tension in his muscles slip away.

Claire was the first to break the peaceful air between them.

She didn't say anything. Just moved. Suddenly she was a few inches away from Leon and then, Leon could feel her fingertips ghosting along his. Looking for permission. Testing to see if she was crossing a boundary line.

Leon responded, letting his digits thread together with hers.

When she slid in closer, tipping her head underneath beneath his chin, resting along the inside of his shoulder, Leon felt a jolt of electricity race through him. Suddenly the world came into sharp focus, and the tired ache around his bones was gone.

His senses came alive with her this close.

He could smell the scent of her shampoo, something citrus-tinged she'd picked up at a gas station along the way. It should have smelled cheap and synthetic, but Leon felt his brain buzzing with the scent. Of course, leave it to Claire Redfield to make something so innocuous and plain feel so alive and pleasant.

He could feel the softness of her hair, ghosting along the sides of his jaw. A flash of an image flitted through his mind – half of a coherent thought really – a murky image of her hair splayed out like an auburn halo across plain white sheets.

Could hear the soft inhales and exhales she made as she leaned against him. His mind was running rampant. Going in directions he felt guilty for letting it go. She was his friend. Yet, he found himself wondering what it would be like to hear that soft breathing beneath him. Shallow and warm and with his name trailing each one as they moved-

"Claire?" he asked, unsure what to do or say. Only sure he needed to distract himself.

"Shh," was all she said and settled closer into his shoulder.

"Clai—"

But she squeezed his hand tightly and cut him off. "This is nice."

And it was nice.

Leon had begun to wonder what it felt like to find Claire inside his personal space. Or to find himself inside hers. To see what it felt to be close to her. Now, he realized as he settled into her, letting his shoulders relax and loosen around her, it was exactly how he imagined it.

She was warm. A small furnace packed inside the body of a pretty girl.

He lowered his head, letting his temple rest along the crown of her hair.

He could feel her smiling.

How? He didn't know.

He couldn't see her, but he could tell.

Her fingers responded with a light squeeze.

The sound of the crickets and night critters filled the empty pocket their conversation had left.

For the first time in weeks, Leon thought he might have felt his eyelids growing heavy. Claire was warm and notched into his shoulder the way she was, Leon felt strangely safe.

"Leon…"

The way she said his name, soft and hesitant, made Leon's chest tighten. It made his head swim with heated, half-formed thoughts.

It'd been three weeks traveling together, on the run, and Leon felt like he was falling further down a blue abyss every time she called his name.

_Stop letting Claire Redfield do funny things to your head. _

But he cleared his throat anyway and replied, "Yeah?" because it was all Leon thought he could manage when he saw the way her head was tilting up at him.

"I think I'm ready to try and get some sleep again."

"Oh, okay," he said, trying to hide the mild disappointment he felt.

She untangled herself from him, leaving a warm impression along his skin where she had once been.

Standing, she turned to him, offering him her hand.

Leon took it, and with a grunt, she hauled him to his feet.

They dumped their trash in a bin along the stairs, and quietly they climbed metal rungs. Claire leading, Leon trailing behind ever so slightly.

The inside of the motel room was exactly how they had left it.

Dark, still, and silent. Only the sound of a rattling old fan on the TV stand cut through the stillness.

Sherry was still curled into the edge of her bed, hand tucked beneath her chin. Squeezing a pillow like a feather-stuffed lifeline.

Claire looked at Leon and tilted her head towards Sherry. Leon understood the message.

_Careful. Don't wake her. _

She tiptoed to the edge of Sherry's bed and knelt beside her. A soft, serene expression passed over her features. She reached out slowly and brushed the hair from Sherry's forehead. She leaned in and pressed a slow languid kiss to her forehead.

Standing, Claire silently maneuvered around to the bed and sat. She slid her pistol from beneath the waistband of her jeans and placed it quietly on the nightstand.

She gave Leon an embarrassed look, and Leon smiled in return as if to say 'thanks for not shooting me early.'

Leon felt around the floor for his blanket. Reluctantly, he bundled the itchy fabric up and quietly slipped over to his chair.

He looked at the thing with disdain. He was beginning to think he'd rather spend another night fighting zombies than sleep in this thing again.

_Sort it out in the morning. Just try and get some rest, Kennedy. _

He slid into the chair and closed his eyes.

The tap on his hand surprised him.

Claire was standing above him. Moonlight bounced off her eyes like a still lake in the summer.

Leon cocked his head.

Clair pulled him to his feet.

Leon mouthed, _Everything okay? _

Claire huffed. She pointed a slender finger at the chair and shook her head.

Leon shrugged.

With an exhausted shake of her head, she mouthed _No, with me. _

It took a moment for his brain to register what she had said, but when the fog cleared and Leon was able to swallow past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, he craned his neck, trying to silently ask if she was sure.

She took his hand and pulled him towards the bed. Backing up until her knees hit the edge of the mattress and pulled Leon down with her.

Only by some miracle or wondrous stroke of luck, Leon managed to not land on top of her in the dark.

The mattress was just as itchy as the blankets were, but Leon hardly noticed.

His mind seemed to have gone blank momentarily.

Claire was inches from him. Leon thought he caught a scarlet hue begin to blossom across her pale complexion, but before he could be sure, she smiled softly and rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

Instinctually, Leon did the same. Lying back to back with her. He wondered if she was regretting the decision.

He wondered if he should just get up and go back to the chair. Save her the embarrassment if possible.

Leon watched clock click down. The crimson digits burned against his eyes in the dark. Two minutes passed.

Sleep suddenly seemed too far away. After all, here he was lying in a bed with a girl who was beginning to carve out a heavy place in a heart. A girl who seemed to be able to rip the words from him with just a smile and a laugh. A girl who was able to make him forget what day it was if the hem of her shirt rode up to far. Who could make the entire room feel ten degrees warmer when she winked at him. Hell, all it took was one bright laugh from Claire Redfield and Leon would forget what his name was. And here he was, lying centimeters from her, in a small motel bed, feeling the warmth of her body heat against his lower back.

_Christ, I should just go. Wait for her to fall asleep and slip onto the floor or something—_

A subtle shift behind him. The quiet rustling of fabric. Then her fingertips touched his. Hooking her forefinger around his.

"Leon?"

He rolled over, sitting up. "Claire?" he whispered.

Without a word, she rolled over too, pressing closer to him, curling into the side of his chest.

"You're warm," she said, barely above a whisper.

Her hand came up and splayed across his arm. It felt like fire along his skin.

"You're not exactly an ice cube either."

Leon felt her laughter rather than saw it. Just faint vibrations along with the linen blanket.

"Lay down," she said.

So Leon did, letting his body melt into the sheets. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling Claire's fingertips along the inside of his bicep.

"Claire?"

"Uh-huh?"

"This is nice," he said because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

"It is. Better than the chair, right?"

"Definitely."

Claire smiled. Leon could feel it against his arm. When had she gotten so close?

It didn't matter. Leon found he liked it. He liked having this close to him. It was…_nice. _

Yeah. Nice. That was the perfect word.

Slowly, he slid down in the sheets, turning on his side. He pressed closer to her, and she curled further into his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"Claire?"

She made a little humming noise. A noise somewhere between waking and sleep, letting him know she'd heard him. A simple sound, but it set Leon's mind ablaze.

Against the crown of her head, he whispered, "Remember to wake me, if you need it."

"I will."

"Good."

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do this from now on."

"Do you want to?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"When you're this close, all the dark feels so far away."

"I feel the same way."

Claire shuffled closer to him and untangled her hand from his bicep. She reached up and splayed her palm across his chest. Right over his heart. Tapping her finger along to the beat of his heart.

"Good," she said in a voice thick with sleep, "Now shut up. Let's get some sleep."

And sleep they did. For the first time in weeks, Leon slept.

His dreams were simple and unobtrusive. He dreamed of a fingertip, taping along to his heartbeat. And a crown of auburn hair.

When he woke to the first slivers of sunlight slipping through the shades to find Claire still tucked away at his side, something struck Leon. Like a veil being lifted.

There was an emotion there. One that eluded him for a long time. One he thought he had no name for.

But with her there, pressed against his side, breathing slow and steady, Leon realized he knew exactly what the name for it was.

* * *

Been a while! And much like a zombie, I'm back from the proverbial dead.

I had some free time, and between work and my own personal writing, life has kept me pretty busy. Still, with RE3 around the corner, I've been replaying RE2. After completing it for, like, a fifth(?) time, I figured I'd dip into the well and tinker around with one of my favorite pairings from when I was younger. With some spare time and a little elbow grease, I was able to put this idea to paper over two days. A little rougher than I would have liked, but I had some unfortunate time constraints. But if it suits your fancy, then you're in luck, because I have got one or two more coming along. Hopefully, it's worth your time!

As always, thanks for reading.

-Poet


	2. Satellites

The air is warm and still. The night itself is silent as if the forest has gone to sleep with the rest of the waking world.

Leon breathes deep, savoring the crisp summer air. It fills his lungs. Makes him feel alive. He basks in the remaining heat of the afternoon sun radiating off the grass and gravel around him. He tastes the cool mint of the spruce trees, the pines.

Since the incident in Raccoon, Leon has learned to savor the feel of fresh air rushing through his lungs. Relish in the feel of a soft breeze whispering across his skin. Here, in the middle of these woods, along the path winding between the trees, he can't believe it was ever something he'd taken for granted.

Behind him, a door slips shut. A lock clicks in place.

The sound brings him back to his senses.

He turns to find Claire tip-toeing down the steps of the cabin. Her auburn hair gleams in the amber light of the old front porch lamps. When she hits the bottom, shoes crunching in the dirt, she looks up and around, gliding a flashlight over the gravel.

She rests it on him, smiling, leveling it so it shines directly into his eyes.

Leon groans and raises a hand. Shielding his eyes, he mumbles, "I thought staring into the sun was bad."

"What was that?" Claire smirks.

"Who said that? Identify yourself. I've been struck blind."

Claire laughs, breaking the stillness of the night. "Alright, alright, I'll stop." She tiptoes across the grass, her trainers making soft swishing noises as she goes, "If only because I don't want to lose you in the woods. City boys like you aren't exactly great in places without concrete."

"Actually, I was in the scou—"

Claire jams her hand up in the air, "Nope. No. Boy scouts, I know. Just let me have my fun."

Leon can't help a smile. It drifts across his features without much resistance – as it always seems to do when Claire hits him with her wit.

"I bet I could navigate a city subway system much better than you ever could."

Claire cocks her head at him, that familiar smile spreading across her face, challenging him. "Yeah? Well, let's see you guide us through the woods then." She points the flashlight at a path made from trampled grass and gravel that vanishes into the trees.

Leon blinks.

"Thought so," She says with a triumphant smirk. She sticks her face near his and pinches at his nose, just to rub it in.

"So where exactly are you taking me, Claire?"

Claire rests a hand on his shoulder and adjusts the heel of her sneaker. She's dressed in a black tank-top and a pair of frayed jean shorts. Leon wonders if her legs have always been that long.

"The lake," she says casually.

Leon cocks an eyebrow. They had been to the lake more than once since coming to stay at Barry's hunting-cabin-turned-hideaway-spot. It was a nice place; there was no doubt about that. With a small but sturdy dock, a few old beach chairs, and a cooler they filled with soda and ice when they went, it certainly had its appeal on a warm summer day. Still, Leon can't seem to figure out why they needed to venture out in the dead of night.

"Claire, we've been to the lake before. Wouldn't it be nicer to go in the day? When it's warmer, and we don't need a flashlight to get there?"

Claire pats him on the back and points the flashlight at the path again; "You've never seen the lake at night."

"Yeah but I've seen it during the day. When it's infinitely easier to find, too."

"Leon, I promise it's worth it. When I was a kid and Chris would let me come along with him and Barry on their hunting trips, it was the highlight of the trip for me."

Leon feels something give in him. Maybe it is the wistful tone in Claire's voice, or maybe it's the fact she is willing to share something personal – a part of her life from long before he'd ever stepped foot in it – that makes him want to cave. And cave he does, hanging his head, and grumbling in agreement.

"What was that?" Claire says, nudging him.

"I said, fine, lead the way."

Claire smiles triumphantly once more. "I promise, Leon, you're going to love it," she says, "It's beautiful."

Something in Leon stutters, stopping and starting at the sound of the fondness in her voice. He thinks it might have been his heartbeat, but he's not sure if such a thing actually ever happens. Still, he wants to experience – wants to _understand_ – whatever it is that makes Claire's voice sound that way.

Quietly, Leon follows Claire as she leads the way through the forest.

Stars glimmer like fading Christmas lights, winking in and out of existence, leaving Leon to wonder if they'd ever truly been there in the first place. Pale moonlight filters through the treetops, slipping through the leaves and bathing the ground below in shimmering swaths.

The path is nothing more than a dirt trail winding between the trees. It dips to the right and circles around a large pine tree, and then swoops a heavy left. Together they stroll through the darkness, Claire leading and Leon following closely behind her. Soon the path widens, and there's space to walk side by side.

In the dark, tiny critters make noises. Leon wonders if a walk like this might have set him on edge at one point. He remembers tests of courage as a kid. Simple, harmless games meant to find an arbitrary level for one's bravery. Silly challenges like _'who can find the soda can in the graveyard'_ on Halloween. Now, none of it seems to faze him. Until a shambling corpse bursts out from between the bushes, Leon feels certain he'll be fine.

He wonders how much of that has to do with Claire standing at his side.

Even in the dark Leon can feel her nearby. She's warm, and occasionally her shoulder brushes against his, and Leon's mind freezes. Stops, and starts, and buzzes into a blank slate. Like it usually does when they touch.

In the two weeks, since they had come to Barry's remote cabin to hide away, Leon thinks they might have gotten even closer. He thinks of that night on the porch, with Claire's warm hand threaded together with his, swaying to the beat of some forgotten 80's song.

They share a bed again.

He wonders if Sherry has noticed he doesn't sleep on the couch anymore. Sometimes Leon thinks he should ask if he's overstaying his welcome, or invading Claire's personal space.

It feels unfair to assume anything.

While he's sure Claire would simply just _tell him_ if she ever felt stifled, Leon can't help but feel like maybe he should take the initiative here and at least give her _some _space. She spends all day with him. Maybe letting her sleep alone once in a while is the polite thing to do.

After all, the cabin isn't very big, and until they can figure out their next moves they're going to need to coexist and the couch isn't all that bad, especially on a hot night like this.

"It's kind of warm tonight," Leon starts, unsure where he's taking this anyway, "I know the fan upstairs doesn't really do much."

Claire shrugs, "It's not so bad."

"If it's too warm, I can sleep on the couch again. I don't mind. I've been told sleeping next to me is like sleeping next to a furnace."

"Oh yeah? How many people have you slept next to, Leon?" she quips.

Leon feels his jaw go slack.

_I'm an idiot. _

Leon scrambles, "That's not what I meant. I meant like if you ever were uncomfortable or needed some space. I just—Look I know the cabin is small and I don't want you to feel like you have no personal space or anything."

Claire hums.

Leon wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. It would be a small mercy. "You know that's the not the most reassuring sound to hear."

"No, I just think it's funny."

"You do?"

Claire stops in her tracks. There's a smile on her face. Jovial and sarcastic. "I was thinking we should clear out a drawer for you. Move your stuff up into the room. You know, so you don't have to keep living out of that duffel bag by the couch."

"Wait, really?" Leon asks, sounding as dumbfounded as he feels.

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out."

Leon tilts his head, "Figured it out?"

"Yeah," Claire replies, "I like sleeping next to you Leon. It's… _nice. _And I'd prefer you'd do it every night." She shines the flashlight in his eyes again, making him wince. Leon doesn't miss how it hides her face from him. "The couch sucks anyway and you know it."

"I mean—"

Claire smiles, shaking her head, "Are you really going to tell me you'd rather sleep on an old couch than in a bed with me?" She feigns a sigh, "You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

Leon is quiet for a beat, then he surrenders, "I think the bed is definitely better than the couch."

"Good," Claire says, matter-of-factly, "Anyway, we can figure that all out tomorrow morning. We're almost there."

The flashlight glides over the forest floor in front of them, lighting the way. Leon thinks they probably don't even need the flashlight. The tree line is thinning, giving way to a clearing ahead. Here the light of the moon is pristine and bright. It shines through clearer here, where the trees aren't so tightly clumped together.

"Watch your step," Claire says, and bounds over a log.

Leon follows, sneakers gripping the bark as he follows her.

When he lands on the other side, the dirt path is almost gone. But he wouldn't need it anyway. Just beyond the clearing is the Lake.

"Pretty isn't it?" Claire says, standing before him.

Leon nods. It's the only thing he can think to do.

The lake looks larger at night. A massive black hole in the earth stretching some 200 meters across the grass. The surface of the water still and mirror-like. The moon reflects perfectly across it, casting writhing snakes of light along the surrounding treetops. Like ghostly northern lights. Even the grass shines with moonlit brilliance. A soft breeze drifts through the area, whispering against Leon's ear. The fern bushes dressing the shore of the lake dance against it. Somewhere far off, an owl hoots, piercing the night air with its forlorn calling. Cicadas hum their droning song. Beneath all of it is the soft lap of small waves along the muddy earth of the shore.

Leon wishes he had a camera. He feels like he's seeing something strangely special. He wants to capture the moment, but Leon knows no photograph could do it justice. So he settles for a memory. Staring long and hard, trying to sear the image into the back of his mind.

Claire clicks her flashlight shut and grins up at him. Her teeth are brilliantly white in the moonlight.

"Told you. Come on, this way."

Leon follows her down to the lakebed. She reaches the dock and bounds up the wooden planks. The board groans and the mirror still surface of the lake shatters as ripples race across it.

A Loon cries out into the night. Leon thinks it its a strangely haunting sound. Sad and lonely.

Claire makes her way down to the end of the dock. The wooden walkway is long and stretches roughly ten feet out into the water itself. When she reaches the end of the dock she does a little bow, and says, "Well, what do you think?"

"You were right."

"Can I get that in writing?"

Leon laughs, "Alright, don't push it."

"Come on," She says, and motions to a beach chair next to her, "Take a seat."

Leon does as he's told and plops into the plastic chair. It's old and it sinks at the base so he can feel his butt touching the damp wood of the dock beneath him. Still, he feels oddly serene when Claire drops into hers beside him.

She reaches over into the cooler beside her and digs around. Water splashes about and ice crunches, but she comes up with a soda and hands it to him. He takes it graciously, twisting the cap, letting the fizz pop and hiss. It tastes of pure sugar. The kind of lip-puckering sweetness he once found glorious as a kid but now as an adult, he finds it off-putting. Once it might have been too much. Now, it's something he finds he can't say no to.

Another thing the City has changed.

"What?" Claire asks.

Leon realizes he must have been making a face. "Nothing, sorry," he says, quickly, seeing the expression on Claire's face. He feels a little guilty for it, but he kind of likes it when she wears that expression. The way her eyebrows furrow and her lips purse. It's cute.

He pushes that thought down. The tunnel that idea leads down into is one he's been finding himself navigating much more frequently. Usually in the early morning hours, with her curled into his side, hair swept across her pillow like a copper-colored halo.

It isn't the time to figure out those thoughts. Not like he can anyway. Things tend to get jumbled and warm when he thinks of Claire. Or why the things she does make the pit of his stomach drop and his chest tighten. He wonders still.

"Leon?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, "It's just… I used to hate soda. Now, after having gone a full night without a single thing to drink back in Raccoon, I don't mind it."

Claire is quiet for a moment. The moon lights her eyes. They glow like icicles in the night. Like snowfall underneath streetlights. Leon wonders if her eyes had always been so clear and blue. "I think that the City changed more about us than we realize."

"Yeah."

"I know it sounds strange to say, but I think it gave us a few things too."

"What do you mean?"

Claire keeps her eyes on the lake. "When I was little, Chris and Barry used to take me hunting with them occasionally. I loved it. It was like the highlight of my summer for me. I couldn't wait for it."

Leon follows her eyes. They're locked on the horizon line as she speaks. Lost in a memory from long ago. Leon wishes he could join her there. Join her and see what makes her smile like that. So displaced and wistful.

"Chris was a few years older than I was. And when we lost mom and dad, well, Barry kind of took us under his wing. He taught Chris how to hunt, and sure enough, after enough begging and pleading, he taught me too," She says, "So we'd come out here during the summer and hunt. And at night, we would go to the lake and swim. During the day there's a ton of bugs, but at night there's none. So as soon as the sun went down, we'd all throw on our bathing suits and head straight for the lake." She takes a sip of her soda and then points to the water that sloshes beneath the boards. "I learned how to swim right in this lake."

Leon tries to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat. The image of a tiny Claire, all fire and sarcasm, trying to learn how to do a Freestyle stroke is something he finds oddly funny.

Claire pokes at him. "Hush."

"Sorry, something in my throat. Go on."

She cocks an eyebrow at him, clearly displeased. Leon shoots her an apologetic look.

She relents, sighing; "Anyway, this was a highlight of my life for me. For me, it was that one thing every kid looks forward to when school lets out. I've never been up here with anyone other than Chris and Barry. And as we got older, and responsibilities piled up, the trips up here became fewer and fewer, until there were none at all," she picks as a loose strand of fabric on her chair, "Part of me always wished I could come back here, one more time, just to see if it held the same – like – the same _magic _it did for me as a kid."

"Does it?" Leon asks.

Claire nods, "It does. So I guess the whole point of what I'm trying to say is… well, for as much as the city took from me, it did give me this. This chance."

"I'm glad."

_I like it when you smile like this, _Leon thinks. He doesn't vocalize the thought. He knows how silly and reductive it sounds. As plain as the thought is, it's likewise uncontrived and honest, and Leon likes that.

"It gave me one other thing too," she says.

"What's that?"

"It gave me you."

The air leaves Leon's lungs in a hurry. Suddenly, he can't seem remember how to inhale. She's looking at him, eyes bright and astute in the moonlight. Whether she meant to or not, she's hollowed him out in the best way possible. He feels honored somehow.

The blood pumps loud in his ears. A monotonous drumbeat ringing in his skull. Words escape him. He wants to tell her how much that means to him, but nothing comes to mind that would express it properly.

So he decides to show her. He reaches over and loops his fingers with her. Her eyes don't leave the horizon, but she slides her palm open and underneath his, letting her fingertips press into his open palm.

"I never thought I'd get a chance to come back here. I haven't been back since I was twelve. Now? I'm here again and I get to share that with you," Claire continues, her words clear and strong, echoing along the silent lakebed, "That feels important. Like it means something. Maybe I've just been focusing too much on the negative, right? Sometimes, it feels like that's all there is. Like it'll swallow me whole."

Leon doesn't interrupt. She talks, and he listens because he likes it when Claire lets him in. He wants to be a part of her world, beyond just the man she survived the apocalypse with.

"So I'm choosing to focus on some of the positives of it. Don't get me wrong, there's not many. But it gave me Sherry. And it gave me you. It gave me a chance to come back here, to one of my favorite places," she says, "and it gave me a chance to share that with you." She turns to him, "It's weird, but I'm glad I got to. Makes me feel… I don't know… _full, _I guess?" she shrugs and stands from her chair. She stretches, her long limbs arching. Her pale skin glows beneath the stars. "Don't know if that makes any sense, but I'm glad the one I got to come back here with was you."

"Claire?"

"Uh-huh?" she mumbles as she finishes stretching.

"I'm glad I came out here with you, too."

"Yeah?"

Leon nods. "I like learning more about you. Where you came from. What your life was like before all this happened."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's like a puzzle."

Claire blinks, "I'll say it again, but you sure have a funny way of complimenting a girl."

Leon stands and waves her off.

"A little while ago, you said, me and you and Sherry, the three of us being together despite the circumstances – that something about it felt right, somehow. And I want to believe in that."

"You do?" she asks.

"Yeah. I survived the apocalypse with you, Claire. And part of me feels that it's right, and that's all I need to know. Like that feeling is all that matters. And I kind of agree. But then there's this other part of me that wants to know more."

"More?"

"Yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't want Raccoon to be the only thing that ties us together. I don't want our friendship to be something born just from shared pain."

"There will always be scars though, Leon."

"Right. But aren't scars just healed wounds?"

Claire relents, offering him a small smile. "True enough."

"I don't want our relationship to just start and end there. If I can get to know you beyond just that, then I want to. So long as you'll let me."

Leon feels his cheeks burn at his choice of words. _Relationship. _He had stumbled over that one. He recovered quickly enough, and it's not that it isn't an appropriate term. But it's a loaded word. Something that can drive a wedge. Still, part of him hopes Claire didn't hear the trip up.

"Why?" she asks. It's an honest question. There's no skepticism behind it. It's plain and raw, and Leon understands her trepidation.

"Because, it's like you said Claire," he replies, "Raccoon gave me _you_."

Claire stills, clearly caught off guard by Leon using her reasoning.

"No matter what happens, I'll have survived the worst night of my life with you. And I want to believe that has _some _kind of meaning to it too," he says, clearing throat before nonchalantly shrugging, "Besides, who wouldn't want to know more about a girl who can pop off with a six-shooter like it's nothing?"

A moment passes. Claire says nothing. Just looks at him fondly.

_And… she's not say anything. Way to bumble your way through that one, Kennedy._

Leon exhales, running a hand through his hair, unsure if he's even made half a lick of sense.

But she's staring at him. Sharp eyes locked on his. Leon suddenly feels like a deer caught in the highlights. Or maybe, more aptly, a deer in the sights of a jungle cat.

"What?" he asks, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"Hey, Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"You got anything on you that you don't want to get wet?"

Leon blinks. "No? I left my wallet back at the cabin."

"Good."

"Why?"

Claire's arm comes up, hand splaying across his sternum. Soft and warm. Fleetingly, he wonders if she can feel his heart beating like a jackhammer beneath the fabric of his shirt. He feels momentarily guilty for wanting to feel her skin against his like this.

"No reason," she says, her words mischievous, her expression cat-like.

Then comes the push.

The world tips on its axis. Suddenly he's parallel to the lake. And the stars are staring down at him. An inky canvas stretches across his field of view, filled with those starry diamonds above. Gravity is working at his bones. His arms pinwheel, trying to find purchase, but he's only met with empty summer air. The sensation of falling hits him a moment later.

He calls out Claire's name but the sound comes out more like a gasp than anything else.

Lake water rushes up to meet him as he twists in the air. Feet kicking out beneath him.

The surface of the water, once calm and glasslike, shatters. The splash rips through the quiet night stillness.

The water is cool and clear. Not entirely unpleasant. He can see the glow of the world above him for the briefest of moments before he starts to float upwards. Leon surfaces, sputtering and gasping. He chokes out Claire's name, the taste of mineral water heavy on his tongue. He can feel his toes sinking into the muddy bottom.

He looks to the dock, trying to find Claire so he can drench her. Some part of his brain has reverted to the rules of his childhood. Back when, if someone pushed you into the pool, you chased them down until you could wrestle them into the water with you. It feels silly – immature at best – but some part of him can't help but laugh at the whole thing.

Her name is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies in his throat. She's already at the edge of the dock. Leon has just enough time to wonder '_Why is she smiling?' _Then she's leaping through the air, arms spread wide, like a bird mid-flight.

An elated laugh escapes her lips. It rings out into the air like a bright chiming bell.

She collides with the surface of the water, inches from him.

The shock of the cannonball knocks him over and he slips beneath the water once more. He surfaces, spitting water from his mouth.

With sudden force, she bursts from beneath the surface of the lake, sending clear droplets through the sky. Little sparks of dewy moonlight that shine as they fly through the air.

Claire whips her hair about, and it arcs like something from a photo Leon once saw in a magazine somewhere. Without reason, Leon feels his heart skip into double time. There's a new tightness in the pit of his stomach. When she settles, Claire smiles at him, laughing quietly as she treads water.

Leon is struck by how he never quite realized how beautiful she looks with her hair down. He can't think of a time he hasn't seen it tied in a loose ponytail. Even wet and dripping with pond water, it falls just below her shoulders in lazy, reddish-brown strands. He wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through it.

"What?" she asks, realizing Leon is staring at her.

Leon comes to, his brain catching up with the strange rapid beating of his heart.

She swims towards him, water ghosting along the straight cut of her jawbone.

"Wasn't expecting to be going swimming tonight, honestly," he replies quickly, hoping to cover for his moment of wonder.

"Well, you're here now. And the water isn't so bad. Might as well enjoy it."

Leon shakes out his hair. "Yeah, I guess. Going to have to wash these clothes though."

Claire makes a face at him, as though to say '_seriously?' _

Leon laughs and splashes her.

"I used to look forward to this," Claire says, leaning until she's floating on her back. She looks at peace. Staring off into the sky with placid shadows dancing across her face.

Leon watches her, wondering where she has gone. He wishes he could follow her into whatever memory she has slipped into if only to experience another part of what makes Claire…_Claire. _

Slowly, she stretches a hand to the sky, as if to dip her palm into the inky canvas.

"Chris and I used to argue which were stars and which were satellites." She says, wistfully, "He was convinced that most of the _'stars'_ were satellites. Like for cell phones and stuff."

Leon looks to the sky. It glitters with stars. A million diamonds and pearls blinking in and out of existence across a dark arch of midnight space.

"You didn't agree?"

Claire laughs softly. "No. To me, they're _all _stars."

"All of them?"

Leon can't see her, but he hears her sound of acknowledgment.

"All of them."

"I guess that's fair," Leon says. His voice sounds airy and distant. Eyes still locked on the silver crescent hovering above him.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I got to come back here."

She's floating on her back, unmoving, staring at the sky. Her eyes are alive with moonlight. Her hair drifts about her face like wisps of smoke and fire.

"I'm glad you brought me here with you."

A small smile slips across her cheeks. "Me too."

A single cloud strolls lazily across the moon. Shadows grow, blackening the world for a few seconds, then the wisp departs, and once more the light blooms with it.

And Claire is gone.

It's slow to register. Leon thinks he must have just lost her placement when the shadows slipped across the world like a dark blanket. He searches the rippled surface of the lake.

Something grips his ankle, yanking his feet out from under him. He tumbles backward, slipping beneath the surface of the water.

Air burns in his lungs as his eyes squeeze shut.

Suddenly there are hands on his face. Soft and smooth and warm against the cool brush of the water. Slowly he opens eyes.

The water is crystal clear. Glowing with dim moonlight. Claire is there. Inches from his face. She wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. Then she kicks off the muddy bed of the pond and propels them up.

They surface, both gasping for air. There they float, drifting along the surface of the lake before Leon's feet settle against the soft earth. Steadying himself, craning higher to compensate for Claire. Leon feels Claire's arms still tight around his neck. Her cheek is pressed to his temple.

Slowly at first, then almost instantaneously, Leon feels his entire body go hot.

Claire's chest is pressed against his. Through the thin fabric of her shirt, he can feel the soft brush of her breasts against him. Her legs float aimlessly, twining and unwinding with his every so often. He can feel her inhale, and then moments later, softly exhale. Her fingertips brush his collarbone occasionally, sending a jolt of heat up and down his spine.

"Are you okay?" Leon asks, knowing how dumb it sounds, but feeling the need to distract himself from the fire roaring to life deep in his stomach.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing?" Claire replies, curious.

"Can you stand?"

Claire looks at him with something akin to annoyance. "I can _bounce." _

Leon blinks. "Bounce?"

"I'm not tall enough to touch the bottom, okay?" she glowers.

"Hold on, I'll swim towards the dock."

"Don't."

"Don't?"

The arm around his neck tightens, pulling her flush against him. "I want to swim for a bit."

Confusion fogs over him but Leon nods his head anyway.

"Let's just float for a while," she says, pulling back to smile at him.

"You're going to catch a cold you know," he says.

Claire digs her fingers into the nape of his neck, "Oh, shut up. Quit being such a killjoy."

Leon winces but is surprised to find himself laughing despite it. "Is it too late to bring up how there might be alligators in this water?"

"Oh please. Didn't you run into a giant one in the sewers?" She retorts, "They can't be any bigger than that one was, so quit you're worrying."

"I'll be sure to throw you at the first alligator I see then. Midnight Gator Snack."

She digs her fingers in again, but she's laughing, and soon Leon is too.

When the laughter dies, and they settle back into their warm embrace, Claire says quietly, "We can laugh about it now."

Leon nods. "It feels good."

"We're getting better, aren't we?"

"I think so. It doesn't feel like poison anymore."

"I'm glad."

A moment of liquid silence passes.

"Leon," Claire says, suddenly, "Thank you."

Cocking his head, he asks, "For what?"

Claire shrugs, but her eyes on the sky, "I'm not sure. For a lot of things, I guess. For being here with me. For letting me lean on you when I need it. For coming here with me and making a new memory in a place I didn't think I'd get to come back to."

"It goes both ways, you know."

"Yeah, I guess. But let me have this one, okay?"

A smile creeps across his face, "Just this once."

Claire doesn't say anything, but the arms linked around his neck tighten, and Leon can feel her heartbeat now. Thudding away in her chest. A faint vibration tapping out a steady rhythm against him.

A sound so deafening, yet so familiar.

It's the sound beneath her breathing. In the dark, late at night, when she's curled up beside him, fast asleep. Content and deeply at peace.

It's a sound he could get used to.

And suddenly the missing pieces feel like they've finally fallen into place.

Leon realizes something. Feels it dawning over him like a slow sunrise.

It's there. Clearer than ever. Crystallizing at the core of him. Maybe it's been there for a while now. Just waiting for the moment he understood it.

She watches him, arm slung languidly around his neck as she floats alongside him in the middle of the pond. Eyes like storm clouds, pupils wide with the reflection of starlight, hair like fading embers. Her brow is arched high on her forehead as she studies him.

_Claire. _

It's her. Maybe it's always been her. Would always be her.

Maybe that string of failed relationships and mishaps – even the newest one with Ada- would have always led him here. To this very moment. Here and now. In soaked clothes, cool water clinging to clammy skin, shoes sinking into the muddy earth of the lakebed as crickets sing and frogs croak and owls hoot into the waning hours of a fading summer night.

Leon doesn't believe in destiny. Doesn't believe in fate. Doesn't believe that all things happened because they were meant to happen.

But for the first time in his life, he wants to.

The hope that maybe all of the choices he had made had forged a path that had led him here. That, maybe, even if it isn't destiny or fate or divine intervention, it is _something. _That this means _something. _And even if it doesn't – even if all this is nothing more than a series of happy accidents and impulse decisions – Leon is glad. There is nothing he would change. This he knows. Feels it with perfect surety. He would go through Raccoon five times over if it led him here. To this moment of clarity. Feeling his heart swelling and the fog in his mind clearing.

Leon finds he doesn't care which way or the other. It doesn't matter. He is here, with Claire, and that's all matters.

Safe and alive. With people he cares about, and who in turn care about him.

He pulls her flush against him. His arm banding tighter around the smooth skin of her torso. She makes a small noise of surprise as Leon does.

"Claire?"

"Leon?"

He leans closer. Her breath is hot along his cheek. Water clings to her eyelashes like dewdrops. Moonlight bounces off the slick sheen of her hair.

He opens his mouth to say something but trails off.

He knows what he wants to say, but he can't bring himself to say it. Can't find the right words. Anything he could say would sound hollow and redundant. Nothing would do the feeling he wants to articulate any sort of justice.

So instead, he settles for action.

He dips ever so slightly closer. Just a hair's breadth, but it feels like he's traveled miles because she seems so much closer with even just such a fraction. Her lips are wet, and he tries to keep himself from staring at them, but her breath is like fire on his skin and her scent is overwhelming, flooding his senses like a whirlwind.

He can see her eyes. They linger on him, darting down to his mouth. Her face has gone a pleasant shade of pink.

Leon presses his lips to her own, and her eyes drift close.

She inhales sharply.

Her mouth is warm against his, soft and pliable. Her arms wind tighter around his neck, closing any distance there was between them.

Leon pulls away slowly. Her eyes are slow to open, but when they do, he searches them, trying to read her reaction and catch a glimpse of what's going through her mind.

He flashes her a small smile. It's unusually shy for him.

Claire's eyes widen. Understanding drifting across her smooth features. Her hand comes up and rests along his jaw. Without a word, she darts forward, pressing a soft kiss into his mouth that lingers a moment too long.

She tastes like she smells. Like autumn and spice.

Claire takes another sharp draw of breath and breaks the kiss slowly.

Any hesitation, any doubt, vanishes entirely. Leon feels heat blossom throughout his limbs. He chases her retreating form, crashing into her, top lip slotting between hers, as her tongue warms the inside of his mouth.

Fingers wind through auburn strands. Another hand shadows the length of her spine. Pulling her tighter, feeling the wonderful heat of her body warming his beneath the cool water.

She lets one hand slide up the nape of his neck, smooth nails grazing the skin. The other rests along his shoulder, fingertips digging pleasantly into the soft flesh beneath his clavicle.

That familiar fire roars to life deep in the pit of him. There's a hunger there, something primal and impulsive. Leon pulls her closer still. Somewhere deep in her throat, Claire moans softly.

Leon feels his mind go blank at the sound.

Hands move like butterflies. Exploring, understanding, yearning.

His tongue dances against hers. She makes a noise like a gentle purr at the contact. Her nails cut white-hot lines across his jaw. Leon settles his palms on the curve of her waist, tugging her against the flat muscle of his torso. Another soft noise escapes from inside her throat. Her chest brushes against him and the damp fabric of her shirt hides nothing. The world fades into background static as needful heat consumes any coherent thoughts.

Leon pulls away, quickly. The loss of contact surprises Claire and she sighs. Leon feels the warmth of her breath along his face, and wonders, if she can feel his.

Lances of want rip through every fiber of Leon's being. He wrestles for control. There's time. This isn't how he imagined it happening, and part of him feels freed as he admits that he has indeed imagined it. More times than he is willing to admit.

Still, part of him feels guilty. Disappointed in himself. He wanted better for her. Better than their first kiss to be in the middle of a pond, drenched and probably smelling like algae and sweat.

Claire is the first to speak. "Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"How long have you wanted to do that?"

"Longer than I want to admit," he says, wondering if she's reading his thoughts.

"Really?" She asks.

Leon nods.

She's quiet for a moment, and fear begins to creep its way into Leon. Now, where not moments ago there was surety, there is doubt.

Her hands brush gently against his cheek. Leon finds her eyes tunneling hard into his.

"Kiss me again," she says.

Leon swallows hard. There's a lump in his throat he can't get passed. "Are you sure?"

"Do I look like the kind of person who second guesses that?"

Leon laughs suddenly. The outburst surprises him (and apparently Claire because she cocks a disapproving eyebrow at him), but the tension in his bones dissipates and there's a new weightlessness about him.

Leon ducks his head down to hers. He kisses her slowly. He can feel her smile against his lips, and she sighs into his mouth. Responding eagerly, pressing back into him.

Thin arms wrap back around his neck once more, and he traces the length of her until he can grip her hips, pulling her against him once more.

Soon that liquid heat floods through his veins again. Their kisses turn heavier, needier, wrestling to capture more of each other. Slender fingertips dip beneath his soaked shirt to graze the skin of his stomach. Leon hikes her legs up to lock around his torso. She responds with a heady sigh.

She pulls away, eyes half-lidded and foggy. It's a look on her Leon instantly adores.

"Dock. Now," she says, breathing heavily.

Leon obliges and hauls her up onto the dock. He's barely halfway up before she levels him with a quick kiss. Then she yanks at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head.

Lying flat, she drags him down with her. In some distant part of his brain, Leon worries he's going to crush her beneath his weight. But she doesn't seem to notice as she guides him down to lie on top of her.

His hand drifts to press across the flat of her stomach. Another pins her wrist above her head. The thrum of her pulse thuds against the skin of his palm.

Leon counts the beats.

Pushing against him with one free hand, Claire sits up. She crosses her arms before pulling her shirt up and tosses it away. It lands with a damp flop somewhere out of sight.

She sits before him, clad in nothing but a damp black bra and her jean shorts. Her skin is like porcelain. Moonlight glows across her pale form. There's a faint crimson blush across her face.

"Quit staring, alright? You're making me anxious," she grumbles, unable to meet his gaze. "Do I have a pond weed stuck to me or something?"

Leon leans up, "No. You're incredible."

She smiles, slow, reassured and content. "Yeah, well, you failed to mention you're built quite nicely yourself, Mr. Kennedy."

"I worked out once or twice during boot camp," he responds.

The quip earns him a sharp jab into his side.

"Oh, you've suddenly got jokes?" she grins.

"Only a few. I run out of material quickly."

She chuckles, pressing a hand over his heart. It slides up to the back of his neck before long and tugs him down. He meets her halfway.

When they part, Leon whispers into the crook of her neck, "Claire?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Do you… do you want to…" he falters, unsure of how to ask the question. Unsure if it's even the right moment to ask. Unsure if he's overstepping a boundary, or moving to fast, or making her uncomfortable. There's a towel to lie out, and there's indeed time, and there is curiosity and longing. But all of it is outweighed by her, and what this moment means to her.

But she responds by taking his hand and drawing it down to the button of her shorts. He undoes the metal clip and pulls, just as her fingertips tug at the zipper of his jeans.

And soon they're just sitting in their underwear at the edge of a damp wooden dock.

Leon feels a peculiar flash of self-consciousness jolt through his brain. Claire sees and understands. She dispels it with a long, slow kiss.

"Leon," she says, quietly, "The answer is yes."

And the world falls away.

For a while, Leon only knows the sound of her heartbeat against his skin and the way her hands explore and dig into the flesh of his back pleasantly, just as his map the long, toned muscle of her legs.

He wishes he could memorize the sounds she makes as they move. She says his name in a way he's never heard anyone say it before. His heart thuds like a war drum in his ear. Yet, every syllable she utters is like a slow cadence. A violin fading to the melancholy end of a song. A guitar ringing out with bright clarity.

Thoughts fade into half measures, and words give way to soft sounds and whispered pleas.

Time passes, and when she tumbles over the edge, Leon is not far behind her.

They lay naked and warm after. Curled into each other, legs tangled like vines along a tree. Claire traces absent shapes across his chest. Her eyes are closed, her lips curved into a content and sleepy smile, long eyelashes dusting her cheeks.

Leon stares at the stars above. He's the first to break the silence.

"Are you sure at least _some _of them aren't satellites?"

Claire chuckles quietly, chest rising and falling along his side. "Nope. They're all stars, Leon."

"Really?"

"Of course," she says, pinching at his ribs.

"How come?"

"Because," She says, grinning fondly, somewhere between sleep and waking, "From down here, even satellites sparkle like the stars do."


End file.
